


Chaos and Terror

by annathegr9



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen, Meg Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annathegr9/pseuds/annathegr9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg works to rebuild Abaddon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos and Terror

**Author's Note:**

> my gift for electricskeptic in the Meg Exchange
> 
> spoilers for 8x12. I wrote this before 8x17 aired. and I am forever upset.
> 
> crossposted on dreamwidth [here](http://megexchange.dreamwidth.org/3439.html)

Meg is strapped to a chair in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere when it begins. And, oh, how it begins!

Small at first, as a simple buzzing in the air, but it slowly crescendos until Meg can feel it vibrating in her very core. It's like a burst of energy, the creation of matter where there was none before, and it reeks of iron, so strongly that even the taste of it worms its way into her mouth. Meg can't help but smile. She knows that perfume, knows it very well. The other demon, the one Crowley left behind to torture her, pauses.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks. He seems annoyed, like she isn't supposed to be enjoying any of this. He must be newer than Meg thought. That, or Crowley's new hell just isn't anything like the old days. She smiles wider and throws out a chuckle. Her eyes gleam like black pools of oil.

"Because she's back."

\---

Meg attributes the ease with which she soon escapes from Crowley's peon to the resurgence of hope coursing through her veins. It feels like time has turned itself back and renewed her sense of purpose. "She's back," Meg whispers to herself, as she tears through her leather bindings. "She's back," she breathes out, at the same time that she clocks the other demon in the head, sending him spiraling across the warehouse. She grabs one of his knives and, "She's back," her blood hums. "She's back," she hears in the panicked roar he lets out as he abandons his host.

\---

She is back, and she is Abaddon. She is one of Lucifer's favorites, if Lucifer were still in a position to have favorites. She is a Knight of Hell. She is destruction and chaos and unwavering rage.

She is also one of Meg's favorites. Meg grew up under Abaddon's knife, and learned how to wield it from her too.

Abaddon had been lost several decades back, presumed killed by the heavenly host perhaps. She was one of the few Meg ever mourned. Meg remembers standing at her father's side, back in her idealism, when she thought her whole world was going to burst apart because of her joy ("These are the days of miracle and wonder," she had even sung, and without a glimmer of irony), and where Abaddon once had been was an empty corner in her mangled heart.

\---

It takes Meg just days too long to track down this long-lost sister. She finds Abaddon cut into bits and buried six feet deep, just as the Winchesters promised they would do. Meg curses their name as she stands over the make-shift grave. It's protected by a devil's trap and it reeks of holy water. She's sure they've salted the dirt as well.

"Oh, Abby, what have the Hardy boys done to you?"

\---

Meg remembers Abaddon teaching her about Lucifer and the glorious hell he would raise on earth. Abaddon would preach to Meg for hours, days at a time. It was their own personal demon Sunday school.

"Lucifer is our god and our father and he will rule the earth," Meg would repeat obediently. Those words coiled into her and warped her blood and bones until they were inseparable from her being.

"And we will help him," Abaddon would whisper back. "And chaos and terror will reign."

Meg loved that part. It sent shivers down her spine, electricity curling all the way down to her toes.

\---

Meg spends weeks searching for a spell or a ritual, anything, to free her sister.

What she finally finds is an old kind of magic, the kind that's rusted over in places and smells a little too much like moldy books, but there's still powerful strength in it. It will work. It asks for a full moon and a thousand white rose petals. Those are easy. It asks for bones scorched in holy oil and that one is harder. It asks for blood and Meg uses her own.

The incantation itself is the opposite of a committal. It summons forth the powers of the earth, forces those particles of dust back together to reconstitute the body. It pulls energy from heaven to reform the soul, and from hell to twist that soul back into a demon. The ritual brings with it a rainstorm and Meg screams the rest of the incantation into the clouds.

\---

But old magic also takes time, so Meg waits. And while she waits, she thinks.

She thinks about the Winchesters and their aim to close the gates to hell. She'd learned about that from her torturer. He had talked too much. But she should have suspected someone would try this eventually. So why not them? The damn Winchesters, always poking their noses into every monster's business. They'd been useful to her before, it's true, but not now. This scheme of theirs put them back on the opposing end of the chess board.

She thinks about Crowley and her blood boils and curdles with hatred of him. She won't admit to fear of him anymore, not now, not while she is waiting for a powerful ally, a friend. Crowley thinks himself so high and mighty, but Meg doesn't agree. Lucifer's old crown fits the glorified crossroads salesman ill indeed. It really would look better on her own head, she thinks. Anyone's head but his.

Meg closes her eyes and considers her options.

\---

A fresh shock of thunder announces Abaddon's revival. Meg watches with curiosity as a red-haired woman dressed in black climbs out of the mud. The woman stretches, examines herself, readjusts to animation. The air smells like iron again, and Meg breathes it in. It's better than oxygen.

"Welcome back, sweetheart. I like your shirt." Meg grins slyly at her reborn sister. The puzzle pieces fall flat and gears click into place. She asks, "Now, how would you like to be a queen of hell?"

Abaddon smiles back and flexes her fingers, which sets off another round of thunder. "Chaos and terror will reign."


End file.
